


A Dash of Destiny

by AlastorGrim



Series: Night Savage AU [1]
Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Angry Dib, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Asexual Character, BAMF Dib, Court Politics, DaPR, Earth is a Space Nation, Mage Dib, Multi, One-Sided Attraction, Professor Membrane Is An Asshole, Professor Membrane is Kaiser, RaPF, Smut, Space Pirates, Trans Dib (Invader Zim), Warmongering, Yule log, caste systems, royal affairs, world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 09:21:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22422574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlastorGrim/pseuds/AlastorGrim
Summary: Earth is an ever growing Empire on the opposite side of the galaxy to the Irken Empire. However, when the Irkens finally get wind of the newest spacial player vying for power, it's far too late to simply destroy them. An all out war would be devastating. So, they must figure out a compromise--but neither of them promised to play fair.
Relationships: Almighty Tallest Purple/Dib, Dib & Professor Membrane, Dib/Zim (Invader Zim)
Series: Night Savage AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1645327
Comments: 25
Kudos: 54





	1. A Spy In Our Midst

**Author's Note:**

> (The amount of world building I have done for this is insane. Therefore, I reserve my right to use it for other fics in the future that have nothing to do with this one, which is what that series tag is for :3 I might be open to suggestions)
> 
> Professor Membrane is not a good parent in this fic. To be honest, he ain't even trying to be. I get that sometimes that squicks people, so I'm warning you now. That tag isn't familial love--it's familial angst. So my fellow angst children: You're welcome. 
> 
> I've used the Yule Log tag a bunch in my DaPR fics, but now it only _sort of_ applies. Because first comes ZaDR, then comes DaPR, then comes the liBERATION FROM TYRANNY--

A large, bloody head with glassy eyes and two mouths crashed into the banquet table just before Professor Membrane's silverware. He looked up to find Dib standing in front of him, splattered in dark, viscous blood and still half dressed in training gear, that atrocious woolen coat hung over it. Dib looked down at him, jaw clenched and eyes half-lidded. 

"Another assassin. You're welcome."

"Really? On the table, Dib?" Membrane uttered, unimpressed. 

Dib scoffed and shook his head. "_So_ sorry, your Imperial Highness. I'll be sure to cut off the other end for your trophy room next time."

Gloves creaking as he clutched his fork, Membrane let out a gruff sigh. "Dib. Not today. It's supposed to be a celebration."

"Some celebration, if it makes the Weskixes desperate enough to send someone to cut off _your_ head," Dib shot back, eyes narrowed. He leaned forward and braced his hands on either side of the table, caging the poor alien's head between them. "They'll send more. This one killed four guards before I found it."

"Well then," Membrane said cooly as he stabbed his fork into the plate in front of him. "That's your failing. Not mine." 

Recoiling like he'd been slapped, Dib let out a disgusted noise. He spun on heel and strode out of the banquet hall, ignoring the many mocking eyes on his back. His boots left stains in the shape of his soles over the tiles as he stormed down the hall and curved through the corridors until he could no longer hear the chatter and bustle of the uppity Chancellors and Generals echoing through the metal hull. Dib stopped to lean against the wall, jerking his gloves off with a snarl. 

"Of course. Yet again, he ignores what I have to say because he thinks I'm insane," Dib growled under his breath, tucking his gloves into his pocket and letting his head loll back to hit the metal wall behind him. "Earth is still a new Empire to space. He's going to get us all killed," Dib snapped at the ceiling, scowling.

"On that we agree," A voice muttered from the opposite side of the hallway, and Dib's head whipped around to catch sight of a shittily disguised alien edging its way across the hall as well. 

Dib straightened. He wet his lips and grimaced at the taste of algae-based blood. Pushing himself off the wall, he stepped in front of the alien to block its path. "Is that right?" 

The alien froze up a little, before straightening. "I mean, the assassin you killed. Whatever methods you--we--are using are clearly inferior."

"Bold words, for an Irken," Dib mused with a smirk as the alien paled. He crouched down so he could look him in the eye. "I've heard tell of the Irken Empire, but I didn't know they considered us that much of a threat."

"How did you know?" The Irken hissed, wide eyed and wild. 

"Call it a hunch." Dib eyed the wig with faint amusement. "Well? Name and purpose, soldier."

"Invader," The Irken hissed angrily, though they looked seconds from bolting entirely. They straightened their shoulders, falling into attention. "Invader Zim."

"Invader, huh?" Dib rocked back on his heels, contemplative. "So you're just here to gather information?" He asked, head tipped.

"Unfortunately."

Dib laughed, eyes glinting mischievously. "Right."

Before he could continue, familiar footsteps echoed frightfully down the hall. Eyes widening and thinking quickly, Dib grabbed the Invader and swirled him into his coat, shielding him from view as Dib straightened up. 

"Stay still and stay quiet if you want to live," Dib murmured as the Invader spluttered indignantly from the tail of Dib's coat, folding his hands behind his back. There was a moment of tense indecision, and then the choice was stolen from them because Gaz rounded the corner like the fury of hell. 

"Can you not, for _one night_?" She hissed, eyes damn near glowing as she stalked up to him. "Seriously, were you born with your fucking feet in your mouth?"

"You and I both know the answer to that, if only by default," Dib replied in monotone, keeping his expression carefully blank. Gaz scoffed. "Besides, you know that I'm right, Gaz. If I have to make a scene to get it through dad's head, then I will."

"You making a scene doesn't do _shit_," She snapped, stabbing a finger into his chest. "It just makes you look childish and validates him refusing to take us on missions. If you really want to change dad's mind, you _know_ you have to go through the Chancellors. They're the only people he takes advice from," She finished, tone tinted slightly bitter on the last part. 

"The Chancellors won't listen to me because they hate me! They won't see reason, and you refuse to back me up so I just look like an idiot!"

"That's because you are an idiot."

"_Gaz_," Dib ground out, teeth clenched. "You know as well as I do that if he keeps going like this that we are all going to _die_. The colonies are getting restless--I don't have to be on the Head Ship to see that. He's not stopping to take care of what we already have, to cultivate it so we can survive. He just wants to get bigger, to spread us thinner and further out. We don't have the force to stop an uprising if the colonies start one, and the Weskixes are already getting antsy for it."

Gaz rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "You think I don't know that? I'm doing what I can, Dib, and all you're doing is sitting here shouting about changing things without giving them any real ideas of how to."

Dib clenched his fists. "I _have_."

Scoffing, Gaz gave him an exasperated look. "Oh, not the magic thing again."

"We need more Mages--it's our _only_ leg up against the more technical species," Dib argued heatedly, an age old wound that he refused to leave alone. "It's ridiculous that we're so looked down upon--"

"Because Earth is a technical society too, dumbass! It's how we've gotten this far, not your magic herb hippie shit."

"My _hippie shit_ is the only reason Pluto is still standing. Magic beats technology by a lightyear, Gaz, even if everyone hates it. If they weren't regulated--"

"--the Mages would rise up because they're oppressed," Gaz shot back before he could finish, eyes slitted dangerously.

Dib scowled, but didn't say anything. He knew Gaz was right. Hell, if he had the chance, he'd rip off his cuffs, strike down the Chancellors and never look back. And Dib was Mage that practically had it made. If he was this angry, who knew how the others would react.

Gaz sighed after a moment, frustrated. She rubbed her temples and turned on heel. "Whatever. Just stop being a moron in public. It reminds people that I'm related to you."

Opening his mouth to argue some more, Dib startled when something small and blue flew at his face, his reflexes the only thing that kept it from smacking him in the face. It smacked into his palm and he flipped it to see that it was Xoryian fruit. Glancing up at his sister questioningly, Dib blinked when he saw that she was already halfway down the hall. 

"I wouldn't go back into the banquet hall after what you pulled. Be grateful I'm not letting you starve." She called dismissively.

Dib snorted, rolling his eyes. Gaz rounded the corner again, back towards the feast, and Dib let out a breath. "You can come out now."

The Irken Invader peeked out from the edge of Dib's coat, eyes wide. The wig had gone askew, and a single antenna poked out from beneath it, perked forward. "That was--you are," Zim spluttered, bewildered. He looked up at Dib, confounded. "Why did you hide me? Why have you not _killed_ me?"

He was staring at Dib with wide eyes that flicked all over his form, as if just seeing him for the first time. False purple irises caught on the hem of his coat, which was decorated with intricate gold impressions of planets and suns and distant stars at the tail and collar. Those eyes trailed up to his vest, which was made of dark leather and also embellished with gold in the shape of galaxies at the seams, the silver zipper on the left of it pulled down so the right side could be folded artfully back to display the glimmering nano armor of its underside. The deep navy blue of Dib's undershirt was hidden by the nano-ed silver mesh tucked beneath the vest as another layer of protection. Dib's flaring black slacks were also covered by black leather chaps, also embedded with barely visible nano armor. His chakram, still covered in blood, were hooked to his side in the shadow of his coat. 

To any human, Dib looked like an especially favored Specialist. But to an outsider, to an Invader sent to gather information, he would look exactly like himself. Dib Membrane. 

Dib grimaced, the tender skin of the fruit bending beneath the weight of his fingers. "Because I'm tired of people ignoring what I have to say." He snapped the fruit crisply in half and crouched down again to offer it to Zim. His eyes glinted. "I have a proposition for you."

Zim's eyes narrowed. He reached forward and tentatively took the fruit. "...Zim is listening."

"Good." Dib grinned sharply. "Come with me."

•☄️•

Dib kept Zim in his shadow as he strode through the halls of the Head Ship to exit it and enter the main Alcazar. He shoved the doors in front of him open and stood aside for Zim. "This is the Library."

Stepping cautiously inside, Zim's brow furrowed. "It looks like a Data Base." He shot Dib a confused look. "Why would you bring me to your Data Base?"

"It's like the Data Base, I suppose," Dib murmured as he stepped in and let the door slide shut behind him. The shining cases of thousands upon thousands of tablets glimmered in the bright light of the Library, each coded with a specific set of information retrieval software. Each one was a drive that held an astounding amount of information on every subject imaginable. "But the information stored here is for everyone to peruse. My...the Kaiser has his own Data Base that holds everything vital to Earth's survival." He glanced at Zim as he plucked a tablet off the shelf, smiling wryly. "Hope you didn't actually think I would give you access to that one," He simpered cheekily.

Zim scowled, curiosity vanishing in the face of scorn. "Insolent fool boy," He snapped, posture straightening. "This, eehh, _Lieberry_\--"

"That's not how you--"

"Is NOTHING in comparison to what the Irken Empire has to offer!" Zim proclaimed, jabbing a vicious finger in Dib's direction.

Rolling his eyes, Dib flicked the tablet on and walked forward to hand it to Zim. "I'm sure, little bug. Here." He sat crisscross on the cold metal floor before Zim could indignantly interrupt again. His eyes flicked pointedly to the tablet. "My proposition."

With narrow eyes, Zim slowly turned his attention to the tablet. He read it once, twice, then looked up at Dib, befuddled. "Zim doesn't understand."

Grasping the tablet and pointing, Dib met Zim's eyes steadily. "You're an Invader--an information gatherer, right? So I'll provide you with information on my people, and in return you'll teach me about the civilizations beyond Earth's star system."

Zim blinked. "You've never been outside your star system?"

Dib's hands tightened on the tablet, scarred knuckles flushing white. "No."

"Princess Gazlene said something about your Kaiser refusing to take you on missions," Zim recalled, realization blooming on his face. "You've never been off-planet?"

"Once or twice, years ago." Dib smiled tightly. "Never outside our solar system. And never unsupervised. Never without purpose."

"...Why bother with it now, then?" Zim questioned carefully. "Surely your Kaiser will inform you eventually. Especially since you are set to inherit his Empire after he perishes." His head tipped, wig slipping slightly as something beneath it perked, curious.

Dib averted his eyes. "I'm...not." Before Zim could interrogate him on that, Dib shook his head. "Just trust me, he's not going to be teaching me anything. But I want--no. I _need_ to be prepared to protect my people if he ends up driving the Empire into the ground. I can't do that if I'm ignorant of everything going on outside of it."

Zim leveled him with a searching look. "When. Not if." Dib grimaced, but didn't refute it. Zim nodded sharply. "You would work with the enemy?"

Leaning back and releasing the tablet, Dib balanced on his palms and hummed. "I'm a firm believer that nobody is an enemy until they lunge. That if two species understand each other that they could benefit from one another. Besides," Dib mused with a lopsided grin. "You haven't bitten me yet."

Spluttering, cheeks flushing lilac, Zim huffed in affront. "W-Well, eh, neither have you! And who KNOWS where you've been! Letting your guard down around Irk's _finest_ Invader will be your DOWNFALL!" 

Scoffing, but amused, Dib raised an eyebrow. "I'll take my chances." He held out a hand. "So. Do we have a deal?"

"A deal?" Zim inquired softly after a moment. He glanced at the tablet in his hands, brow furrowed. Sharp teeth gnawed at his lip, contemplative. Hesitant, a gloved hand reached out for Dib's. His eyes snapped up to meet curious amber. "Yes. Zim accepts your terms, Dib-Prince."

"Please," Dib said with a wince. He gave the Invader an awkward smile. "Just call me Dib."


	2. Watchtower Hour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am jus--  
I am just sitting here

Dib tugged his gloves back on as they walked back through the halls towards his room, Zim partially hidden by the sweep of Dib's coat. Flexing his fingers and listening to the satisfying squeak of leather, Dib shouldered his door open and stepped inside.

"You'll have to sleep in here. I don't mind if you go out, just make sure that you stay out of sight. Other humans aren't as...friendly, as me," Dib finished with a wry smirk. 

"Irkens don't sleep," Zim muttered distractedly as he ventured slowly into Dib's bedroom. The door closed behind him and he jumped, wide eyed.

Dib snorted. 

Wide, falsely purple eyes scanned the dim room, catching on the large bed tucked into the corner and the window overlooking the glimmering metal city below them. Across from it, there was a large shelving unit filled with several odd objects and what looked like wood-bound paper. The floor looked like dark, grainy mahogany, but when Zim's heels clicked along the seams of it, it rang metallically. The walls were draped with dark fabric, shielding the iron from view and possibly keeping out the chill of it. Two doors stood to Zim's left, and there was one, larger one to the right, near the door of the bed. That one was bolted with multiple locks, a faint turquoise glow emanating from the seams of it. 

Dib had strode over to flatten his hand against the panel next to the windows, which abruptly pixelated black, shielding the city from view and presumably blocking the room off as well. "There." He turned and moved over to the bed, kneeling beside it and reaching beneath the coverings shielding its underside from view. He felt around for a moment, tongue peeking out of his mouth in concentration, before his brow furrowed and he winced. A grin curled his lips and he withdrew his hand, a small, furry, black blob curled within it. It gnawed on his gloves fingers and glared at Zim with yellow, slitted eyes. "Easy," Dib cooed to the tiny beast, stroking down its spine. "He's with me."

The angry little animal seemed to huff, then hopped out of Dib's grasp. It whipped its tail around and paced around Dib for a moment before sitting at his side, between him and Zim. Dib chuckled, nudging a knuckle into its neck.

Zim scrunched up his face. "What _is_ that thing?" He demanded. "And WHY is it in your living quarters?"

"This is Phoenix, my familiar. He's a puma," Dib explained as he straightened up once more, hooking the glowering cat up by the stomach to deposit it in one of the inner pockets his coat. The animal seemed disgruntled, but not surprised with the treatment. "But I'm also not really allowed to have him, so I'd appreciate some discretion, yeah?" Dib shot him a wary look, ruffled a hand between the puma's pointed ears.

"Please, Zim is a MASTER of discretion!" He proclaimed, brandishing a claw at the ceiling.

"Right," Dib uttered, amused. Shifting his coat so the little beast was out of sight, he swept over towards the door. 

Zim yelped. "Wait--where are you going?"

The door slid open and Dib glanced over his shoulder at Zim, one brow cocked. "We may be on equal terms, but that doesn't mean I trust you. You were sent here to _invade_, after all--hardly peaceful intent. I'm going to need a bit more than a day old truce before I trust you not to gut me in my sleep. So you'll stay here until I come to get you in the morning."

Spluttering, Zim's expression went through a rapid myriad of emotions that told Dib that the Irken either hadn't _actually_ thought of backstabbing him--or he was an incredible actor. Zim took a step forward. "WHAT? But, you--what if it is YOU who betrays ME? How am I to know that you won't simply send your guards after me once you have Zim in a confined space!"

Dib smiled wryly, eyes half-lidded. "I guess you're just going to have to trust me."

Zim puffed out his cheeks, fuming. "You--you _hypocrite_!"

"Never said I wasn't one," Dib drawled. "But seriously, if you don't want to be killed on sight, stay in here. See you in the morning."

The invader began to shriek something else, but it was silenced by the door sliding shut. Dib let out a breath as soon as the door was closed, then waited for a moment to make sure Zim wouldn't come storming out. When he didn't, Dib took that as a sign that Zim was being cooperative. For now.

Straightening his shoulders, Dib made his way towards the nearest elevator. Phoenix was shifting restlessly in his coat, but he'd settle down once they got outside. Stepping onto the pad at the end of the hall, Dib pressed his hand to the panel beside it and uttered, "Surveillance Tower G."

The pad raced upwards, then spun and jerked to the right before jolting up again. Dib was deposited in the elevator two floors up, stepping out onto the dark metal of the bridgeway. Electricity crackled and sparked within heated glass spheres every few feet, both for light and easy fodder. From what Dib knew, they were from before the second Membrane Kaiser had been cloned, and the Alcazar itself was constantly under threat of attack, given that the Milky Way hadn't been secured yet. They were practically obsolete now. 

In fact, the watchtowers themselves should've been obsolete, if not for Kaiser Membrane's insistence that technology was only a tool to be used by humans, not the other way around. He'd quelled enough AI uprisings that he knew the risks of becoming too reliant of tech. Security systems couldn't be trusted. _Humans_ could barely be trusted.

Dib strode across the walkway towards the sharp, glinting spire of the watchtower in front of him, eyes rapidly adjusting to the darkness thanks to the proximity of his familiar. 

Technically Dib shouldn't be up here. 

His shift had ended an hour ago, and even then he'd stayed late because Melvin hadn't answered roll call and he'd found the Weskix standing over his mangled corpse. A loss, but not a particularly large one. Melvin had barely made it out of training, and yet he took every chance he could to mock Dib for anything and everything. To be honest, there were only two guards that Dib could stand for any length of time, and both were still in training with him. 

Clasping a hand on the ledge, Dib swung himself easily over the lip of the metal and cradled the weight in his pocket to his chest so it wouldn't whack into the ledge. It had happened more than once--Phoenix was never pleased with him when it did. 

"Jesus _fucking_ Christ, Dib." Came an irritated, rough voice to his left. 

"Hey, Torque," Dib mused with a smirk as Phoenix poked his fluffy head out from Dib's coat, yellow eyes glowing. He lept out of Dib's pocket and shook himself out, hackles flaring. Torque gave the puma a wary look. "Mind if we stay up here tonight?"

"Again?" He gruffed in complaint, though his tense posture had slackened. 

"It's a nice night," was the only response Dib deigned to give, striding towards the other side of the space and putting his back against the support beam to slide down it and sit on the cold grate. Phoenix sniffed around Torque's boots, then bumped his head up against his leg in recognition, purring. Dib huffed. "Traitor," He grumbled.

Torque smirked faintly. He picked Phoenix up under the stomach with the toe of his boot, turning to deposit him in Dib's lap. "Whatever. Just don't let the General catch you. I'm not covering for you again--especially not if it gets me pushed back from my exam."

Dib curled his finger around Phoenix's tail and gave Torque a half-assed salute. "Hear you loud and clear. I can cover my own ass, don't worry."

Torque snorted and turned back to where he was supposed to be watching for threats, content to ignore Dib now that he had the promise of the other trainee not fucking with his work. Dib hummed to himself, leaned his head back to look at the stars, and drifted off with the hope of being among them again.

•☄️•

Dib returned to his room the next morning bright and early, opening the door to find Zim rifling through his bookcase, nosing through his books with intent eyes. Chucking a small box at the Irken's head, Dib snickered when Zim yelped and shot up in alarm, falling off the bed. He dug his gloved claws into the duvet as he went, shredding it down the side as it dragged it on top of him. Dib scowled, miffed, and strode forward to heft Zim up and off the tangle of blanket.

He waved his hand over the torn fabric, grimacing as it began to knit itself back together. The cuffs around his wrists pulsed, buzzing in warning. '_Fuck off_,' Dib wanted to snarl. '_At least this one's approved._'

Tossing the duvet back over the bed, Dib raised an eyebrow as Zim immediately began to start in on him. 

"Do you KNOW how long Zim has been waiting for you? What on _Irk_ have you been doing, Dib-human?" Zim demanded, stomping his foot. 

"Sleeping, mostly," Dib replied as he fished a sleepy Phoenix out of his pocket and shoved him back under the bed. He disappeared into the small pocket dimension hidden beneath the baseboards, and Dib straightened. "Be grateful it didn't take longer. Humans used to sleep for eight hours a night, you know." He turned and tugged his gloves down, leather squeaking quietly as he did. 

"Eight hours!" Zim repeated, aghast.

Dib smiled. "Yep. Now eat your breakfast and come on. Everyone else is sleeping off hangovers from last night's 'celebration'." He rolled his eyes, picking up his books, dumping them on the bed, then sweeping towards the door again. "We should have the Library to ourselves for the next few hours at least, and I don't have time to waste because I have training at noon."

Disgruntled and eyeing the box Dib had thrown at him suspiciously, Zim picked it up and hoarded it against his chest before following after him.

The human striding confidently in front of him, Zim took a moment to examine the box the human had called breakfast. It was made of cardboard, no bigger the the diameter of Zim's hands, and painted white and gold. There was a word branded on the side that Zim didn't bother trying to translate. He flicked open the side of the box and saw that it was filled with shiny brown spheres that smelled slightly burnt. And sweet.

Scrunching up his face, Zim plucked on out and placed it carefully on his tongue. His expression immediately perked. It was sweet, dissolving slowly on his tongue as he rolled it around his mouth. 

He made to dump the whole container in his mouth when he caught Dib glancing at him, smirking. Caught, Zim hastily crushed the box to his chest and adopted a haughty expression. "These are adequate."

"You're welcome," Dib murmured, amused.

They reached the Library and slipped inside, the door ratcheting shut behind them as Dib waved a hand and called down the search unit to ask for a certain number of tablets. Zim stood by the door, clicking his claws together nervously, unsure what he was supposed to be doing.

Dib received the tablets with a muttered thanks (though the search unit arm did not appear to contain sentience) and spun back to Zim. He blinked. Then he tipped his head and motioned Zim forward as he collapsed into a cross-legged position. "I can't show you the screens from all the way over there."

"Zim knew that!" Zim shot back, snotty. He trotted forward anyway, sitting down beside the human with his legs folded beneath him.

"Right," Dib said, looking confused for a moment and eyeing the space between his knee and Zim's. He shook his head after a moment, selecting the tablet on the top and powering it off. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything!" Zim proclaimed.

Dib laughed, brow cocked, but nodded. They got to work.

•☄️•

"So humans have only been able to travel off-planet for eight hundred years?" Zim asked incredulously, squinting dubiously at the tablet in front of them as he sucked on the candies in his mouth.

At some point, Dib's tailbone having gone numb, he'd shifted to lay on his front and Zim had absently followed suit, swinging his little booted feet back and forth. Somehow, during the hour and a half they'd been there, Zim had pressed himself flush against Dib's side to see better.

Dib hadn't noticed. Or, maybe he had, but he didn't seem to mind.

"Yeah. A lot has changed for us in a relatively small amount of time."

"Zim is not surprised. With a Kaiser so obsessed with progression, the only options would be to either fail or _progress_."

"That's one way to put it." Dib huffed out a wry laugh.

Zim cocked his head. "And though your Kaiser was the one to invent space travel on Earth, you claimed your current technology from a separate species?"

"Not all of it. It was shared with us by one of the first civilizations we came in contact with--it completely blew what we knew about weaponized tech out of the water. So, of course, my dad took it, improved it, and then used it to take over their entire society." Dib rolled his eyes, an age old exasperation resurfacing. 

Zim's wig twitched, antennae perked. He grinned, sharp-toothed, caramel candy crushed like glass between his fangs. "Zim can respect that."

Snorting, Dib glanced at him. "From what I've heard about Irkens, that doesn't surprise me. That's why I was surprised that they hadn't sent anyone here before."

Tipping his head, brow furrowed, Zim uttered, "How do you know we haven't?"

"We would've detected it," Dib answered simply. "The only reason we haven't been caught yet is because my magic is smothering your PAK signal. They likely already had it on lock before I found you and it disappeared. The tech surveillance team probably just assumed I killed you."

"HA!" Zim barked. "As if! Nothing could defeat the great _ZIM_!" He thrust a fist up, nearly hitting Dib in the face.

"...You're really full of yourself, you know." 

"Of course I am full of myself," Zim said, bemused. "My innards are Zim just as my PAK is Zim."

Dib absorbed that information, filed it away for later, and chuckled. "Not what I meant, but sure." He swiped the application left and hovered his fingers over the screen. "Anything else you want to know before I leave for training?"

Zim paused for a moment, contemplative. "There is...one thing." He looked up at Dib oddly. "If your progenitor is the Kaiser, and you are the Prince--" Dib winced. "--then why do you have to train? You have obviously already been given a purpose, and yet another designation despite that. Why must you continue to train if you have already been deemed fit for battle?"

Dib's jaw locked, working silently for a moment as he chewed over what he wanted to say. "Earth is a very hands-on learning society. After all, if you fuck up in the field, there's less of a chance you'll blow it off. Whether because you're dead or because it suddenly clicks that you _will_ die if you don't get it right, it's rather effective."

"But you are the Prince!" Zim protested, face scrunched up. "What are _you_ training for, if not battle?"

"I suppose I am, in a way," Dib managed to get out around a stiff tongue. "I'm training to become a Specialist. Originally, I was aiming to specialize in supernatural warfare tactics. Only it turns out, that's not actually a _thing_, and now I'm stuck in a bullshit course that's teaching everything but the one thing I really wanted to learn. I probably won't graduate to an actual Specialist rank until next year, at best." He shut off the tablet and hastily got to his feet. He waved at the search unit to take the tablets away and sighed.

Zim scrambled to his feet as well, eyes wide. Dib blinked down at him, eyes glazed for a moment. Zim narrowed his eyes and kicked him in the shin. Nanites crowded around the area a split second before Zim's foot made contact, blocking the blow and then fading back into the black, sparkly leather of Dib's chaps. Cursing and clutching at his smarting foot, Zim glared at the offending fabric and felt his annoyance dissipate as he realized the minute sparkles in the leather _were_ the nanites. 

Clever. 

Dib was shaken out of his stupor with a startled laugh, eyes glimmering smugly down at Zim. "Nice try, Space Boy," He drawled as he walked towards the Library door with short steps, ensuring Zim could keep up. He grinned. "Let's get you back to my room, and we'll come back tomorrow. Rankle will seriously have my ass if I show up late again."

Huffing, Zim reluctantly padded after Dib yet again, wondering when his mission had gone from 'observe' to 'follow'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of world building, a little bit of suave, and a kitty! Throw it all in a pot and you get *rolls dice* Steampunk! :D (This is more medieval but whatever) Next chapter is: EVEN MORE WORLD BUILDING!


	3. Blood On Your Boots

General Rankle looked like he wanted to cuff Dib 'round the ears anyway when he arrived at the training grounds, despite not being late. His eyes were narrow and the veins in his neck bulged like they were physically reining in a loud lecture. 

"Privet," Rankle ground out as calmly as he could manage. "Where is your uniform?"

"Currently getting Weskix's blood removed from it," Dib drawled, unconcerned. He crossed his arms, bare of gloves and coat and the rest of his armor. His vest and his chaps were the only pieces he'd kept, though he'd swapped out his normal vest for one of the standard navy ones. Rankle's face went a worrying shade of puce, and Dib let the tense silence linger for a moment more, unable to resist, before finishing, "_Sir_."

Torque, who stood at attention near the front of the pit, let out a strangled, muffled snort. Dib didn't bother hiding his smirk.

Rankle looked like he was one popped blood vessel away from keeling over. Dib could only hope that one of these days he'd succeed in giving the man an aneurysm. But, it seemed, today was not that day.

"Fifteen laps, Privet!" Rankle barked, incensed. "For insubordination!"

Gretchen facepalmed from where she stood, at ease, beside Torque. Dib grinned at her when Rankle spun around to bark orders at the rest of the trainees, and she rolled her eyes at him. 

Dib started his laps around the field (a number that refused to go beyond twenty, no matter how much trouble Dib managed to get into) at a leisurely pace, knowing Rankle didn't have anything important for him to do today anyway. Nothing that Dib didn't already do on his own. 

Except, maybe, handling the bigger weapons. Dib didn't like those--they were far too clunky and gave too much room for error--but Rankle forced Dib into the sparring ring more often than not wielding one of the larger weapons or none at all. Dib's chakram were far too deadly for sparring, after all. He never missed. 

Magic was forbidden on the training fields. And also practically everywhere else. 

Dib paced himself evenly through his laps, and finished them in time to join Gretchen in the Specialists' corner after warmups. He folded his hands behind his head as he jogged over, bristling at Rankle's disapproving glare. Gretchen glanced up at him, dressed in thin metal armor, and huffed. Gretchen was still currently a grunt, though she was more than halfway through with her Specialist training. Once she completed it, she'd trade her armor for nanites and leather, like Dib. The only reason Dib himself wasn't wearing grunt armor was because of his accursed status. 

"Really pushing it today, aren't you?" Gretchen said with a furrowed brow. "You're all riled up. What did you do?" She demanded suspiciously.

"I could do a lot worse," Dib shot back with a shrug. He lifted a double-edged sword off the wall and eyed it with distaste. "And I'm not riled up."

"Yes, you are," Gretchen protested as she selected her own weapons from the armory wall. She tucked five throwing knives into her belt stepped back. "You get this look in your eyes when you're about to do something reckless--it's how we know to avoid you whenever you start trouble or send the Kaiser on warpath. Sometimes both."

Dib's jaw clenched and he rolled his eyes. "Right. Well, maybe I'm not riled up. Maybe I'm just fucking _angry_."

Paling, Gretchen took half a step away from him, wary. "That's even worse."

"The Alcazar would never survive both you _and_ the Professor on warpath," Torque muttered as he passed by them on his way to change. "Try not to kill us, okay Dib?"

"I'm not going to get you _killed_," Dib shot back tightly.

"Yeah, you told Melvin that too," Gretchen grumbled. She blinked when Dib flinched back slightly, eyes wide. Compunction flickered across her face. "Wait--shit--Dib, I didn't mean--"

But he was already gone. He'd turned on heel and strode over to the arches on the other side of the fields. He stood stiffly in front of one, letting it scan him, before stepping back. 

"**TRAINEE: Dib Membrane. WEAPON: Longsword. PREPARING TRAINING REGIMEN.**" 

A moment, and then the metal slats between the arch folded back to reveal several automated robots, these broad in build and made for honing his footing and swordsmanship. He'd decimate them all in hour, meaning that he would soon be reaching the end of his armory wall. Then he'd have to face the only weapon left to master on it.

But for now, fuck that. 

He widened his stance and cleaved the first robot that charged at him in half, fueled by the need to beat the emotion out of himself via exhaustion. Dib was, technically, training to become a Specialist. A Berserker. It wasn't a hard Specialization to learn, just time-consuming. A way to keep him out of the way. Out of trouble. 

Not that it worked as well as Membrane had probably thought it would. 

But, in this instance, it would keep Dib out of trouble (out of his hair) long enough for the Head Ship to undock from the Alcazar again and head back for the Xoryian Quadrant, where the current battle for expansion was taking place. Several hundred light-years away from the Milky Way, taking most of their forces, and leaving the rest of their colonies incredibly vulnerable.

Dib swung the sword in his hands roughly through the metal torso of the latest robot, blue sparks and bolts of plasma flying from the space where its chest plate had once been. His shoulders were already starting to burn. 

Taking in a shaky breath, Dib thought back to Zim, who was probably pacing Dib's room and tearing up his sheets again like a stilted cat, and his frustration settled. His form smoothed back out. 

That was right. Dib had a plan, he'd put it in motion, and everything was going to be fine. He'd make sure of it. 

And Zim was going to help him.

•☄️•

"So, just to ensure Zim has this correct--which I obviously do, this is more for your benefit--" Dib smirked. "There are ten rankings of human culture. The first and highest being the Kaiser, the second being the heirs of Prince and Princess, because of simple birthright. The third is the Chancellors, because they are essential to providing new technology to the Eartern Empire--the great inventors of the ages, right?"

Dib inclined his head slightly from where he was laying sprawled on his back on the cool library floor. He'd unzipped his standard vest and unbuttoned the first few claps of his shirt, feeling overheated. "Yeah. If Membrane really likes someone, he'll chip them to extend their life expectancy so he can crank more ideas out of them. Which is _also_ why the Chancellors are the only people he takes advice from."

Zim glanced up from the tablet in his hands, brow furrowed. "So they double as advisors as well?"

"Something like that."

"Geh. Primitive."

"How so?" Dib questioned curiously, lifting his head a bit to look at the Invader. It was hard to get offended by being called primitive when Zim said it every five minutes about practically everything he learned. At some point the insult in it had started to ring hollow. 

"Needing a team of others to do the reasoning for you? How is that _not_ primitive?" Zim began indignantly. "Either your Kaiser is incredibly stupid, or incredibly lazy."

Dib let his head drop back down so Zim wouldn't see his grin. "Mm. Next ranking?"

"Generals are fourth, with Specialists as fifth, and grunts as sixth. Their rankings in court also double as their rankings in militancy, though Specialist are harder to place within it because it's a broader branch." Zim recited dutifully. He laser focused back down on his tablet. "Seventh are the menial inventors and smiths, who mass produce the weapons and other improvements that the Chancellor's present. Eighth is non-planetbound citizens that reside permanently on the Head Ship. This is mainly placed because of wealth, but also occasionally a connection to a Chancellor or the Kaiser himself. Ninth is planetbound citizens, with no clear order beyond that. Tenth is, unsurprisingly, the Mages."

"Unsurprisingly?" Dib said sharply, eyes narrowed as he levered himself up onto his elbows.

Zim wasn't looking at him, still examining the tablet with a furrowed brow. He waved his hand absentmindedly. "Yes, the Mages are clearly the bottom of the food chain in this horrible Empire. Zim did not need to read it in your Lieberry to see this."

Dib's expression darkened. "What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

Looking up at last, Zim blinked at Dib, startled by the ice in his gaze. He cocked his head, confused. "Zim means that being a Mage garners no respect in Earthern society, for the obvious reason that being classed as such has no clear value in service to your Empire. There is no use for them."

Dib sat all the way up and levered himself into a half crouch. His eyes flashed and his lips curled into a snarl. "No use? No _value_?" He spat as he stood, fists clenched. Zim's eyes were wide. "How the fuck do you figure?"

Zim leaned back, the tablet forgotten as Dib loomed over him. His lips thinned. "Earth has many similarities to Irk, in that it is more synthetic than organic. Irk had never even heard of magic before Earth made its debut, because Irkens are entirely reliant on technology. Magic in a technical society has no purpose."

"You think being reliant on tech makes you stronger?" Dib asked quietly, eyes wild as he took a step forward. "You think it would stop me from killing you? You think having a weakness like that is something to be proud of? You think it would _matter_ to someone like me?" The metal shelves around them rattled, and wind kicked up in the room as the lights sputtered and gave. Zim cried out as an invisible force slammed him back into the ground, pinning him to the biting metal. The pressure increased until his ribs creaked, and Zim let out a wheeze, eyes bulging. Dib bared his teeth, eyes glowering as his hair fluffed up, the tang of ozone crackling through the air. "_It wouldn't._"

Zim choked on his own breath, and just as the lights gave out completely, just as the syrupy power in the air condensed into something lethal, the cuffs around Dib's wrists pulsed and he collapsed to the ground with a shout. Heaving in a stuttering, panicked breath, Zim scrambled up and away from Dib, spooked and bristling. 

He opened his mouth to spit out something scathing, only to falter at the sight of Dib on his knees, upper body curled over his abdomen. His hands clutched at his stomach as his chest spasmed and heaved, a flood of red spilling from his lips. Zim bit his tongue, eyes like saucers.

"Fuck," Dib gasped out, one hand bracing against the blood stained floor as he gagged again, another fount of crimson spurting out of his mouth. Limbs shaking, Dib grit his teeth. "Fuck!"

"...Dib-beast," Zim began carefully. "Zim is going to approach you now. Refrain from trying to kill me."

Dib's only response was a chattering groan. Zim inched forward, skirting around the viscous puddle of blood seeping across the floor at Dib's knees, before cautiously grasping Dib's face and pulling it up so he could look at him. 

The human's skin was pale, the shadows beneath his eerie, luminescent eyes deeper and darker than before. His lips and teeth were stained red, saliva and blood dripping thickly from the corner of his mouth. In the sudden lack of light, it looked black. Dib's entire form was trembling faintly, sprinkled by the odd jerk or spasm here and there--like Dib was trying force his muscles to still themselves. It obviously wasn't working.

Zim grimaced.

"Egh. Foolish human. You have injured yourself. Can you stand?"

"It wasn't--" Blood hacked out of his mouth once more, cutting him off. Thin strings of it striped the hem of Zim's uniform. Sucking in a raspy breath, Dib continued. "It wasn't me, it was the f-fucking _cuffs_. Look, Zim, they--_ugh_\--they're gonna be coming in here any minute to haul me to the Labs again. Get to my room, take the back halls I showed you. Don't let them see you," he coughed urgently, hand curled in the pink fabric.

"You...incredibly infuriating human," Zim hissed, head spinning as he glanced feverishly between the door and Dib. He looked conflicted, but the choice was clear. "We are having words about this later!" Releasing Dib's face, Zim stepped back and darted for the door, slipping out of the Library and leaving Dib to gurgle his own blood in the dark until one of the Chancellor's showed up. 

And show up they did. 

Chancellor Amanda stepped into the Library with a haughty expression, rolling her eyes to the heavens with a sigh when she caught sight of Dib on the floor. "You again. Of course. No other Mage is as foolish as you--at least the others know their restriction limits." She stalked forward, boots clacking across the metal, and grasped Dib by the back of his jacket to drag him out of the room. "I would say that you're lucky the Kaiser has already left, except he hasn't." Dib cursed, half-choked by blood, and Chancellor Amanda scoffed. "'Fuck' is right. He's not pleased with you as it is, imagine his reaction when he finds out that it's you that's delaying his take off, oh _Prince_."

Two grunts in black armor clasped Dib by the biceps and hauled him to his feet once he was out of the Library, sending him stumbling down the hallway between them. They would drag him to the Labs, stop his cuffs from killing him, then leave him to the mercy of his father.

Well, it wouldn't be the first time, certainly. 

_"The Alcazar would never survive both you **and** the Professor on warpath."_

Torque had no idea. No idea how _badly_ things could go wrong in a short amount of time by putting Dib in a room with his father and leaving them be. The Alcazar would not still _exist_ if not for Gaz constantly standing between the two of them like a damning mediator.

Chancellor Amanda fell into step with them and hummed, sounding vaguely pleased. "Who knows, some good may come out of this endeavor after all. The Kaiser might realize that you're a lost cause at last and allow us to conduct the proper experiments on you."

Dib turned and upchucked blood all over her shoes, baring his teeth in a grin as she squawked and stumbled back in disgust. He spit in her direction again, vindictive, as she stopped in the middle of the hall to frantically wipe at her lab coat. "Get shafted, Mandy!" He roared in a raspy tone as the grunts turned and bullied him into the Labs.

If he were anyone else, Dib would've been flogged for that. Good thing he wasn't. The Chancellors couldn't do shit to him. 

Unfortunately, the only man who could had apparently changed his takeoff time and was still in the Labs. So really, Dib was fucked anyway--what was a little more trouble on top of that?

The grunts shoved him through the Lab doors and pushed him into one of the metal chairs in the foyer. Strapping his wrists down, they hooked the wires dangling from the hinges into his cuffs and stepped back so they chair could whirr to life and butt it's way past them. Dib lolled his head back, iron tainting his tongue, and grinned savagely at the disdainful scientists he passed as the restraining chair took him towards the examination rooms. 

Up the stairs, around a corner, and through a slatted metal door, the chair came to a rest, hissing as it docked itself in the port at the center of the room. It was dark, the dull blue lights beneath the floor hardly enough to do more than cast eerie shadows across sharp, painful looking equipment. 

Normally, Dib would've been able to see just fine. Night vision wasn't a particularly hard bit of magic to do, and it was on his list of allowed spells, but his cuffs were now a steady, heated pulse around his wrists, and he'd be lucky if he could even manage to slow the blood spilling from his stomach and hacking up his esophagus. No, he'd sit and wait and choke until someone came to deal with him. 

Dib wasn't waiting long.

The lights flickered on, bright and sterile, and Kaiser Membrane stepped into the room. Dib tipped his head to the side, red dripping from the slack corners of his unsmiling mouth.

"Hi dad."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oop--


	4. Exchanging Chains

Membrane let the door slide crisply shut behind him, face emotionless. "What was the reason for your little outburst this time?"

Dib's mouth twisted into a scowl, and he turned and spat a mouthful of blood onto the sterile floors. "The usual," he rasped with a bloodstained sneer at the ground. Even at his angriest, he could never look his father in the eye while he was like this. Too vulnerable. Too _weak_. "One too many dumbasses."

"This is getting out of hand," the Professor said sharply, sweeping forward. A metal hand emerged from his cloak and clasped around Dib's wrist. The cuffs dimmed, fizzling out completely and finally allowing Dib to _fucking breathe_. He gasped in a breath and hung his head as his blood returned to its proper place inside his body, abruptly dizzy. The restraints fell away and Membrane stepped back. "Up. I shouldn't have to tell you by now."

Dib staggered to his feet, wrenching his shoulder roughly out of the cold grip when it reached to steady him. The Professor's eyes narrowed, mouth twisted behind his high collar. Dib grit his teeth and shucked off his coat. "I've got it."

He tossed his coat, vest, and shirt back onto the restraining chair, the chilly air of the Lab room plucking at his skin. It was nothing compared to the icy surface of the Professor's hands, which immediately lit up blue and landed on his sternum, spanning their way down to his stomach. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, but Dib was used to it. The blue died down, and Membrane leaned back once more to lay his hands palm up before him. An X-ray of Dib's torso flickered into the air above steel palms.

"It hit you in the stomach. Nothing that couldn't have been fixed relatively easily." With the cuffs off, the screen began to display the fizzing hole through the top of Dib's stomach rapidly closing itself, the navy colored splotches of blood quickly receding as his magic hastily worked to stop him from biting dust. Professor Membrane closed his hands and the screen disappeared. "Normally you aim to kill."

Dib averted his eyes and said nothing.

Membrane raised an eyebrow, but didn't press. Instead he tugged his leather gloves back on and moved over to the table at the back of the room. "The Headship is departing in ten minutes. Delayed, because of you."

"It was already delayed," Dib bit back. "Or else you wouldn't have been here to personally tell me how disappointed you are."

"I haven't even _started_ my lecture, Diacetox, because I don't have the time to. I don't have time for your tantrums, I don't have time to play nurse for you, and I don't have time for you to stand there and continue your own ungrateful tirade. And yet--" He clicked the latch on one of the glass boxes and slung it open. "Here we are. Come here."

"I can do it myself," Dib spat.

"It _wasn't a question_, son."

Cursing after a moment, Dib reluctantly slipped forward to stand in front of his father once more. He had his arms crossed over his chest, eyes averted, and he hissed when Membrane reached out and jerked his face up. 

"Open."

Dib bared his teeth at the thin bar of blood replenishment, but accepted it with a scowl. Then he wrenched himself out of Membrane's steely grip and grabbed his clothes. He was just shrugging his shirt back on when Membrane caught him again, hand clapping down on his shoulder to spin him around. Dib whirled with it and went rigid, eyes downcast. One silver claw pressed against the thin line of white beneath his pectoral, just enough to sting.

A beat of silence.

"I should strengthen your cuffs. Close off your magic completely."

"Because that worked so well _last_ time, right?" Dib shot back, heart in his throat. He bared his teeth against it, pulse in his tongue. 

Professor Membrane's mouth twisted in distaste. He released Dib and swept towards the door. "I will be gone for three months. Gazlene will be accompanying me. Do try to stay out of the Chancellors way while we're gone."

Then he left Dib there, standing in the middle of the medical room with an icy pit forming in his stomach that had nothing to do with his cuffs. 

'_He's taking Gaz?_' a small voice whispered in the back of his mind. '_He never takes us with him. Why didn't she say anything? Has she known this whole time? What about me?_' it whined, wounded. 

Dib clenched his fists and grit his teeth, stuffing the voice violently in the back of his subconscious. He gathered the rest of his clothes and stormed out of the medical ward. He must've looked angry, because Chancellors and Inventors and Generals alike parted for him as he strode through the white halls and burst out of the Labs. Chancellor Amanda, in a new lab coat, glared at him as he left. He barely registered it.

He snarled when a hand came down on his shoulder yet again, whirling to find one of the Chancellors staring down at him. He slapped a curve of metal over Dib's cuffs, and with a flash of blue, they warmed against his wrists once more. Dib scowled and yanked his hands away.

"Nice try. Your restrictions have been heightened--Kaiser's orders."

"Gee, thanks," Dib bit out, spinning away and striding off down the hall to keep himself from decking a Chancellor. Again. 

He didn't meet anyone on his way back to his chambers, even though he took the main halls instead of the back ones. It looked like the entire floor had been cleared out. Dib snuffed and paused by the door adjacent to his own. The familiar turquoise glow that usually emanated from beneath the door was absent. Dib clenched his jaw.

He banged into his room, let the door slide shut behind him, and stormed over to the far wall to flatten his palm against the console. The window lightened until it was clear glass, and Dib slid to the right so he could watch the Head Ship dislodge from the main port and lift off into the atmosphere. He watched it until it disappeared between the shades of blue and purple of dusk, chest burning with...something. It wasn't quite rage, and yet it wasn't quite sorrow, either. Resignation, perhaps? Dib didn't have a damn clue.

He collapsed back into his bed, staring at the ceiling and flexing his hands. Through all the cluttery emotions, he had the feeling that he was missing something. He'd forgotten something. 

"Fuck me, I can't catch a break today," he hissed, nose scrunched up.

"The Dib-stupid obviously doesn't _deserve_ a break!"

Dib jolted upright when a claw dug into his leg through his trousers, eyes wide as they landed on the sight of Zim, peeking out from beneath his bed like a stilted cat. "Holy _shit_, give me a heart attack, why don't you? What are you even doing under there?"

Zim averted his eyes, false irises shrinking slightly. "Eh, someone tried to enter the Dib's quarters, so Zim...decided to examine your pocket dimension for your fur beast until they left."

Dib felt a smirk curl his lips, fury petering slowly away as he watched Zim wiggle his way out from beneath the bed frame. "So you hid."

"TACTICAL EVASION!" Zim cried, face flushing mauve. He stood up and brushed off his pink uniform with a huff. He flicked a piece of grass off the flared hem of it and screwed up his face in disgust at the dried blood still splattered across it. "And like you have any room to flap your mouth hole, human! After you tried to _kill_ Zim!"

Dib's face fell and darkened. He looked away. "I wouldn't have killed you."

Zim scoffed, crossing his arms. "And Zim is just supposed to believe you? Not a chance!"

"I'm not dead, am I?" Dib snapped, flipping his hands up and rolling his wrists in Zim's face. Zim blinked and Dib put his hands back in his lap. At Zim's wide look, Dib sighed. "It wouldn't have killed you. It was an accident. I was just angry."

"Angry," Zim echoed wonderingly. Then, under his breath, he muttered, "Accident...I shudder to think what would have happened had the Dib been trying." He shook his head, folding his hands behind his back as he straightened into attention. "Dib-prince!" Dib frowned. "Zim would like to recant what I said earlier about Mages. If you are what constitutes a Mage, then it is clear that they have incredible value in relevance to battle. Their placement in your caste system is not as sensible as I first thought," Zim proclaimed.

"Is this your way of saying you were wrong?" Dib replied with faint amusement.

"Absolutely not! I was just, eh, informing you that I have changed my mind. FEEL HONORED! Not many can change the mind of _Zim_!"

Dib laughed and shook his head. His chest felt light, and his cuffs suddenly felt much less suffocating. "Right. Well, I'm sorry I attacked you. Or tried to, anyway. We have a deal, and I'd rather not have my partner in crime hate me for the duration of it." 

Zim was silent for a moment, eyes narrowed as he ran his eyes over Dib as if searching for any insincerity. His eyes zeroed in on the space where Dib's shirt was still half unbuttoned, and he stepped closer. Dib watched him curiously, only to jump when Zim reached forward and dug a claw into the scar beneath Dib's pectoral. The same side and the same spot as when his father had done it. Spasming slightly, Dib snatched Zim's wrist and yanked it away, lips pursed.

Jerking his hand back out of Dib's grip, Zim tilted his head. "What is that?"

"A scar," Dib rasped, leaning back on his palms and lifting one hand to button his shirt back up. "It's when your body can't heal up seamlessly. It leaves a scar in the shape of whatever wound caused it." He grabbed his vest and slung it over his shoulders, hunched forward.

"And what caused that one?"

"I don't wanna talk about it," Dib said sharply. He glared as Zim puffed up his chest in indignance, opened his mouth to shout and demand, only to pause. 

Mouth quirking down, Zim looked down at the ground and flexed his claws contemplatively. After a moment, he growled and hopped up on the bed next to Dib, sitting beside him and looking resolutely at his knees. "Irkens don't scar."

Dib raised an eyebrow. "I gathered that." 

Zim scowled and glanced briefly at him before looking back to his knees. He tucked his hands beneath his thighs and swung his legs slightly. "Not like _that_, stupid Dib-beast! Zim was going to begin his part of our deal, but if you are just going to sit there and SASS me perhaps I won't!"

Dib's eyes widened and he sat up a little straighter. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. Continue." When Zim shot him an irritated look, Dib rolled his eyes and uttered, "Please."

Huffing dramatically, Zim leaned his head back. "As I was saying. Irkens don't scar, because our PAKs heal us too quickly. There have been Irkens in battle that have had their heads blown off and continued to fight even afterwards." Dib's eyes sparkled with interest, and he opened his mouth to ask, but Zim raised his already loud voice to plow on over him. "IN ADDITION TO THIS, battle-ready Irken's are taught PAK maintenance. Two minutes or less. If you cannot fix your PAK on the battlefield before your life clock runs out, then you were too stupid to live anyway. So if, perhaps, you were to see a fellow soldier on the ground, injured beyond repair, you are..." Zim swallowed. "You are to leave them there to die. Because they were a hindrance to the Empire and their death could only be further served as a boon."

Dib tipped his head. That didn't sound too far off from Earth's policies, but from the way Zim was talking, it seemed to bother him. The thought of leaving a fellow Irken behind to die didn't sit well with him. 

'_Or_,' Dib thought lowly, '_Maybe it's **him** being left to die that doesn't sit well with him._'

Zim shook his head after a moment. "But Zim would never have to worry about that, because I am expert at PAK maintenance! I have the record time to PAK reassembly--one minute and eight seconds."

"So you were probably a little teacher's pet, huh?" Dib mused with a small smirk. "Top of your class?"

"Of course I was top of my class," Zim proclaimed, preening. "Though what that would have to do with the horrid instructor drones, I don't know. The only one to contribute to Zim's success was Zim!" He threw a fist in the air, triumphant.

Dib laughed. He quieted after a moment though, and his brow furrowed. Swiping his tongue across his bottom lip contemplatively, he closed his eyes and let out a breath. "...It would bother me too." Zim made a questioning noise, and Dib peeked up at him through his lashes to murmur, "I wouldn't trust any of my people to help me either. That's why I try so hard in training, even if I hate it. I don't ever want someone to have to come to my rescue. Because honestly, I don't think anyone would."

And maybe it was just the blood loss. Or perhaps the rush of blood replenishment finally reaching his brain. But he felt...soft, in that moment. Sitting with Zim on his bed, both of them dotted in his blood, speaking of the atrocities of each of their kind--he didn't think he'd ever felt so mellow. So open. 

Dib kind of liked it, in a strange way. He knew it wouldn't last--it _couldn't_ last, not if he wanted to keep his head above water--but it was nice to just talk to someone for once. No ulterior motives this time, but just...a need to vent, he supposed. 

Was this what trust felt like?

Zim stared at him for a moment, then, slowly, he reached up and pulled off his atrocious wig. Dib jolted slightly when a slim metal limb extended from Zim's PAK and reached forward to take out contacts that Dib didn't know Zim had. Both pieces of Zim's disguise were stowed away in his PAK, and a pair of big, bright berry pink eyes blinked up at him. Dib stared back.

'_He's so pretty,_' came the unbidden whisper in Dib's mind.

"Well, human," Zim began, quieter than Dib had ever heard him. "For the duration of our exchange, you can trust that Zim would rescue you should you be downed on the battlefield."

"Hopefully there won't be any battlefields between now and then, but...ditto," Dib replied after a moment, a tilted, awkward smile curling his lips.

Zim twitched an antennae and huffed, crossing his arms. "Of course! Now, shut your mouth hole, Dib-thing, let Zim speak."

Dib chuckled and drew his knees up to his chest, going quiet as Zim began to launch into his tales about the Irken Empire, and eventually start to wax poetic on his leaders. The Almighty Tallest.


	5. Short End of The Stick

"Wait, so your leaders are just _taller_ than everyone else?"

"STOP INTERRUPTING ZIM, DIB-BEAST!" Zim shrilled in frustration, eyes narrowed and antennae twitching irritably.

Dib laughed, shaking his head and burying his face into the covers beneath his chin. He'd strewn out on his stomach as they'd talked, Zim leaning back on his palms to look at him. Dib peeked up at him, a shit-eating grin on his lips as he raised his eyebrow. "You're entire society is built on a caste system based on height. _Really_."

"Yes," Zim hissed. "Really! It's the only proper way to measure an Irken's worth!"

"That's stupid," Dib snorted.

Zim's antennae swivelled agitatedly as he narrowed his eyes at the human. "You DARE insult the Almighty Tallest?"

Dib rolled his eyes. "I was insulting the system, genius. 'Height is only proper way to measure an Irken's worth'? How does _that_ make sense? Like--Zim, how tall are you?"

"Five and one trillionth doom-units tall," Zim replied easily. "Though in your Earth terms, it would four feet and two inches."

"Okay, and how tall are the Almighty Tallest?"

"In Earth terms? Tallest Red and Tallest Purple stand at an exact eight feet in height--fourteen and one fifth doom-units tall," Zim stated proudly, chin raised. 

Dib blinked, a little taken aback at the number. The sheer difference between Zim's height and the Tallest's heights were startling. Huffing through his nose, Dib propped his chin back up on his steepled fingers. "So, by Irken standards, you're short?" Zim bristled and scowled. Dib took that as a yes. "Do you think that you have any less worth than someone that's taller than you? Because you're short, and yet you were sent on this mission to Earth, when there had to be plenty of other, taller candidates, right? Why would you be chosen if you weren't worthy?"

Zim's scowl vanished.

Dib's lips quirked. "See my point? Basing your caste system on height is about as stupid as Earth basing our caste system on whether or not someone can use magic. Get me?" 

Zim frowned, brow furrowed. "Well, of course Zim is the best! But, if that also means that..." He paused, then shook his head vigorously, nearly whapping Dib in the face with one of his antennae. "WHATEVER. I thought I told you to stop _interrupting_, Dib-mage? Where was I?"

Dib huffed and lolled his head to the side, glasses pushed up at a crooked angle and biting into his temple. "Tallest Red and Tallest Purple. How great they are and all that."

"Ah, yes, of course!" Zim chirped, pleased. "I am under Tallest Red's division, as he handles the more militaristic side of Irken society, and Tallest Purple handles the more political side. They are two of the most vicious Irkens to grace the Massive since Tallest Miyuki's era. Zim was graced with the privilege of having been trained in the same squadron as them. Same graduating class," Zim preened, a hand pressed against his chest in haughty smugness. 

"Really? You grew up with your leaders?" Dib perked back up, curious. "What was that like?"

"Eh?"

"What were they like when you were in school with them?"

Zim took a moment to think, a twisted expression on his face that Dib was beginning to recognize as one he wore when his PAK was researching a term. "Irkens do not have your human _Shool_\--" Dib scrubbed a hand over his face to keep from laughing. "But in training, I often found myself eclipsed by them. They were...awe-inspiring. Ruthless. Everything an Irken is supposed to be and more."

Tipping his head, Dib questioned, "I thought you said you were top of your class?"

Antennae twitching in annoyance, Zim scowled down at him. "I was! But Zim will admit that I did not have what they had. My performance was impeccable, of course, but Red and Purple were...something else entirely. Irkens feel no attachments save for loyalty to the Empire, but they drew in drones in _droves_, from the lowest service drones to the highest of Elites. They were _other'versely_."

Zim had gone slightly starry-eyed, gazing at the ceiling in a wistful remembrance. Dib wondered that was like, to feel such reverence for a leader. It must've been nice.

That didn't mean he didn't think that Zim's awe was simply a part of a larger scheme based on the computer lodged into his spine, however. Dib wasn't stupid, he could piece the little information that Zim had let slip about his PAK together to get a vague idea of what it was. But for the sake of preserving their truce, Dib was going to refrain from mentioning it. 

"Cool," Dib drawled as he pushed himself up. Zim's starry look shuttered and he shot Dib a glare. "So they were coded to be Tallest from the start. Kind of surprised they were made to go through the same training as the others, but I guess it makes sense in a roundabout way." Dib swung his legs over the side of his bed and frowned, ignoring Zim's indignant spluttering as he caught sight of something stuck to the locked door at the end of his bed. "Did you say someone tried to come in here earlier?"

Without waiting for an answer, Dib pushed himself off the bed and padded over to the door. There was a piece of paper stuck to one of the chain links enveloping the door with a glowing sticker. Dib snatched it off and brought it up to his face to read the scratchy handwriting scribbled on it.

'**I tried to stop by and warn you, but you were being an idiot again, so don't be pissed at me for not telling you. It wasn't my idea. Maybe you would've been able to go too if you weren't off being a dumbass. Don't die while we're gone.**

**-G**'

Well, that was about what he expected. A little more than, honestly. Dib felt something settle in his chest. He let out a breath and folded the note away, stuffing it into his pocket. He stretched an arm over his head and huffed. 

"Well, it was nice learning about you for once, instead of the other way around--you really have to start fulfilling your part of the deal, bug--but I have to go get my uniform back and grab something to eat. Do you want something while I'm in the kitchen?"

Zim's antennae twitched, though whether in curiosity or annoyance, Dib couldn't yet tell. "...Zim liked the round candies."

"Noted," Dib replied easily as he moved towards the door, already plotting the quickest way in and out of the kitchens as he went over the minimal amount of dialogue he would need to bluster through in order to get his clothes back. He paused when Zim piped up again, one hand poised above the door panel. 

"And Zim would also like to come with you!"

Dib glanced back at him, brow cocked, to find Zim now standing on his bed, gripping the bedpost like an anchor as he stared determinedly up at Dib. His lips pursed. "They can't see you in here. It's safer."

Zim's antennae bounced rigidly, and he glared at Dib. "I want to see the rest of the Alcazar."

That prompted a laugh from Dib, incredulous. "That would take literal _days_, Zim. Not to mention it puts you even more at risk since the halls are always being monitored and the longer you spend out in the open means more of a risk that a Surveyor catches sight of you and figures out I didn't actually kill you."

Zim flapped a dismissive hand, blowing air out of his mouth in what might have been a raspberry, had it had any force behind it. "Puh-lease! Your pitiful little surveillance drones could NEVER come _close_ to discovering me!"

A slight smile pulled at Dib's lips, but he fought it off so as not to encourage the increasingly interesting and impossible Irken. He turned back to Zim and cocked his head. "You really want to come?"

"Yes," Zim said solemnly, though his antennae were perked forward eagerly.

"Alright then," Dib acquiesced easily. He rolled up his sleeves and gestured Zim closer. "Come here." Zim's antennae immediately shot back, and he looked suspicious. When Dib gave him an expectant look, Zim cautiously slipped off the bed and made his way over to Dib, wary. Dib cupped Zim's face in his hands once he got close enough, making Zim squawk, but Dib merely leaned over him and breathed, hands warming against green skin as the scent of ozone invaded the air and faint golden glow doused Zim over the head, slipping down his body and encasing him in it.

"What--" Zim shrilled, only to close his eyes and shiver when Dib drew his hands away. He opened them in time to see Dib wince and clutch at his wrists with a curse.

”Damn _cuffs_," he snarled softly, before lifting his head to look at Zim again. Seemingly shaking off whatever had happened, Dib straightened once more. "Small spell. Well, less of a spell and more of a brand, I suppose? Something to help you stay unnoticed."

"Brand?" Zim exclaimed indignantly. "You _dare_ BRAND the almighty ZIM with your horrible human magicks," Zim hissed, hackles raised and hands fisting.

Dib just looked amused, if slightly exasperated. "It's not _actually_ a brand; it's more like scent marking. It'll wear off eventually. But with my magic on you--_me_ on you, essentially, you'll be practically invisible to the cameras. The monitors won't pick you up."

Looking skeptical and still more than a little angry, Zim retorted, "Then how do they see you on the stupid monitors?"

Giving a dark, lopsided smile, Dib flourished his wrists at Zim again. "You can't guess by now? I feel like this is a bit self-explanatory."

Letting out a garbled, frustrated noise, Zim grabbed Dib's arms. "_Gargh_\--what _don't_ those infernal things do? Other than ANYTHING USEFUL!" Zim cried with a growl of disgust at the cuffs. 

Dib laughed, startled, and once he'd started he found it difficult to stop. Zim made an affronted noise, demanding to know what he was laughing at, and that just made Dib laugh harder until he was doubled over, palms on his knees as his shoulders shook with mirth. Zim was now a little leaned over as well because he refused to release Dib's wrists, PAK blinking softly every so often and flashing a faint hue of magenta over Dib's face. Coughing out a last, choked chuckle, Dib leaned back up and rubbed the heel of his palm under his eye to disperse the tears that had gathered there during his fit. 

"You're awesome, Zim," Dib sighed out with a small smile. He twisted his hands so quickly that Zim almost didn't see the movement until Dib had already switched their grasps. Zim's hands flexed idly on air as Dib squeezed his forearms. "Come on then. Hopefully there's some leftover Pestiños from the feast. Doughnuts," he clarified when Zim gave him a confused look.

Zim's antennae perked and his eyes widened, puppyish. "Lead Zim to your Earth doughnuts!"

Dib grinned, genuinely delighted for once. "Let's go, Space Boy."

•☄️•

They stumbled back into Dib's chambers, laughing and shushing each other as the door whooshed shut behind them. 

"I can't believe you did that!"

"I can't believe you _helped_ me do that!"

"The look on her _face_," Dib gasped out, wheezing as he giggled wildly behind his hand. "I wish I had a camera!"

Zim just grinned mischievously and produced a thin metal arm from his PAK, a curved lens at the end of it. Dib grinned back, wide-eyed.

"You didn't."

"Zim did," Zim crooned with a cackle, bounding over to Dib's bed and flopping on top of it. He fiddled with the lens for a moment, before it lit up and began to project the vision of the chef screaming as she looked over her dinner preparations, which were now all a vivid _pink_. Dib fell into another bout of laughter at the sight of it, falling onto his bed beside Zim to look up at it properly. His coat flared out at his waist, draping half over Zim's waist, but the Irken merely pulled it up like a blanket and grinned up at the projection with Dib as the angry chef started berating her fellow cooks and chasing after a poor delivery boy with a wooden spoon.

Dib giggled wildly when he saw himself hoist Zim up around the waist and bolt, the look on his own face sending him and Zim into hysterics again. Dib threw an arm over his eyes and sighed shakily, still grinning. "I haven't laughed this hard in years. My stomach hurts." He glanced at Zim out of the corner of his eye, narrow. "I turn my back for one second--"

Zim merely flapped a gloved hand in his face, lolling his head to the side to face Dib with a mean smirk. "Oh, do not pretend you weren't an accomplice, Dib-beast! You enjoyed that just as much as I did, if not more."

"Well, considering that it was relatively harmless for an Invader," Dib drawled back with a smirk of his own. He didn't finish his sentence, instead sitting up on his bed and fumbling for the package in his pocket, letting Zim stew in it. He fished the wrapped slab of meat for its bag and knelt beside his bed, shoving his arm under the frame and whistling softly. "Phoenix, here baby. I brought dinner," he crooned, and hummed when he felt a claw bat at his fingers until he released the prize. He could feel Phoenix nip his fingertips in thanks, just shy of drawing blood, and he pulled his hand back out of the small pocket dimension beneath his bed. 

Standing again and dusting off his pants, Dib met Zim's gaze absently, only to find Zim already looking at him. He didn't really acknowledge it though. 

Turning and shrugging off his coat, he snagged the bag of Pestiños from his other pocket and tossed the coat towards the end of the bed, his gloves following it to land in a puddle of black and gold next to Zim's boots. He dropped his chaps and boots as well, before waving a hand absently at the pile and grimacing when his chest twinged. Right. Restrictions. Ugh.

"What are you doing?"

Dib blinked, turning back to face Zim with wide, bemused eyes. "What do you mean? I can't exactly sleep in my shoes."

Zim's antennae rose. "You are sleeping in here? You said--"

"I know what I said," Dib said sharply, eyes gone owlish as his heart thudded a tattoo against his ribs. He had...forgotten? So quickly? It had only been three days, and already he was dropping his guard. Dib pursed his lips. That was a problem he would never shake, it seemed--trusting too quickly. Too easily. A little information, a moment of understanding, and a (rather juvenile) prank to share laughter and suddenly he was convinced Zim wouldn't gut him given the opportunity. 

'_Maybe he wouldn't,_' a small voice in the back of his head whispered, shining dewy, hopeful eyes out of his soul like an animal peeking out of its burrow after a long, dark winter. 

...Maybe he wouldn't. But Dib could take no chances. Not when he'd put everything on the line for this. Not when it wasn't just for his own gain. He had an Empire to think of. Not _his_ Empire--not yet. But soon. Soon he would be able to fix everything.

But until then, trust had to be earned. It couldn't be cheapened.

Dib stiffly crossed his room to the door on the other side of his bed, adjacent to the darkened window pane. "I'll be out of your hair in a minute. I just have to grab a few things first."

There was a small, cut-off noise that sounded like bells. Strangled. 

Dib slipped into his bathroom and let the door shut behind him before falling back against it. He knocked his skull harshly back into the metal. "Get it together, Diacetox," he hissed to himself. He shut his eyes and pushed his knuckles into the sockets, teeth gritted. "We don't have time for this. Get it together."


End file.
